The violence, gambling techniques and worker exploitation behind the world’s favourite video games

We all know about the moral panic over the violence in the games themselves. But what about the ethically questionable practices that go into making them?

Purchasing one of the major first-person shooter games might even mean you are inadvertently funding war (Getty)

The history of video games goes back to the 1950s, but many still see them as a niche activity that happens behind closed doors. Over this time, video games have grown into a global industry that has reshaped how we think about play and work.

In the UK, it has been reported that consumers spend more on video games than either film or music. In 2018, the figure stood at £3.86bn, a jump of 9.1 per cent from the previous year. Video games are, in terms of spending at least, now a mainstream activity.

However, while the recent successes of games like Fortnite have brought increased mainstream attention to video games, this often focuses on negative patterns of play – with the World Health Organisation officially recognising “gaming disorder”. These kinds of negative associations have become a popular theme, from addiction to the integration of gambling techniques in the form of randomised “loot boxes” in games.

A long-running argument about video games has centred on the role of violence – something that has echoes in other moral panics about violence in books, television and movies. However, what is less talked about is how violent video games are made.

As Simon Parker has found, when games feature reproductions of real-world weapons, many publishers pay license fees to the arms manufacturers. This means that whatever your stance on violence in video games, purchasing one of the major first-person shooter games, might mean you are inadvertently funding war.

The video games industry has a long relationship with the military industrial complex. The first video games were made on computers meant to be used to plot missile trajectories. From these early beginnings there have been moments of resistance and conflict over making games – and what kind of games we get to play.

Looking at the work that goes into making video games can help us to make sense of the industry today. It can help us make sense of the relationship with the military, as well as the pressures to keep players engaged – found with the loot boxes and gambling elements.

For example, take Grand Theft Auto V. It is the most profitable entertainment product of all time, with over 90 million sales and $6bn (£4.75bn) in revenue. The game was made at Rockstar North, based in Edinburgh. Its production involved over 1,000 people, spread across studios in Leeds, Lincoln, New England, San Diego, and Toronto. So, it is both a British-made game, but one which required global cooperation.

However, any game requires hardware made in factories, often under brutal working conditions, in China. That hardware must then travel across increasingly complex logistic supply chains to reach consumers. In this way, the production of video games captures many of the shifts that have taken place in production over the last 40 years: the rise of services in the global north and shift of production to the global south.

Although the conditions in factory work are well known by now, there are more stories coming forward about the practices of “crunch” in video games. This involves working incredibly long periods of time in the run-up to a games release – sometimes 80 or more hours per week – to ensure that it is finished to a publishable standard. This has sparked a global movement for unionisation in the games industry, calling itself Game Workers Unite.

When we peel back the veil that hides how video games are made, it is possible to see an industry that is reshaping how we work, both in countries like the UK and increasingly across the world. For an industry set up to make us play more, many involved in the games industry are voicing concerns about their own working time. What is clear is that the video games industry is maturing, but the implications for work and play are still being contested.

Jamie Woodcock’s ‘Marx at the Arcade: Consoles, Controllers, and Class Struggle’, published by Haymarket, is out now